


Aces and Eights

by kosmickway (KMDWriterGrl)



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 22:14:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KMDWriterGrl/pseuds/kosmickway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sara takes Nick's season 1 suggestion that she take up singing to heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aces and Eights

**Author's Note:**

> The song Sara sings is "Like the Way I Do" by Melissa Etheridge.

“Hey, Greg, what are you doing tomorrow night?”

Greg Sanders bobbled the test tube that contained a bit of rubberized material, origin unknown. The question hadn’t surprised him– he went out on dates on a regular basis– but the voice that had vocalized it did. In fact, he could hardly dare to believe it.

Sara Sidle was about to ask him out. 

He’d had a crush on Sara from the moment she walked through the front door. Fruitless though that crush may be, according to Warrick, Catherine, Nick, and most everyone else in the building, he still daydreamed, schemed, and hoped that Sara would, one day, come to her senses and see him for the brilliant, handsome, and virile man he actually was.

That day, it seemed, was today. Hoping she hadn’t seen him nearly drop the test tube, he turned around to face her, composing his face into a mask of cool concentration. 

“Me? Not a whole lot. Just hanging out, probably. Why? Did you, uh, have something in mind?”

Sara smiled and leaned against the stainless steel table. “Actually, I did.” She pulled a slip of paper out of her pocket and handed it to him with a warm smile. “Want to meet me here at 8:00? We’re both off tomorrow, I thought we could grab something to eat, listen to some music.”

Greg tried to still his racing heart. He casually studied the paper, hoping she wouldn’t notice that his hands were very slightly shaking. 

The neon yellow flier was for Aces and Eights, a bar and restaurant just off the Strip that featured a lot of live bands. Greg vaguely recalled having driven by the place a time or two. 

“Sure. I’d love to go,” he said, shoving the paper in his pocket, knowing that lifting it to his nose and trying to capture her scent off of it would fairly well ruin his chances with Sara. 

“Great. See you there tomorrow night.” Sara flashed him one of her thousand watt smiles and turned to leave.

When she was safely out of sight and hearing range, Greg punched his fist into the air and whooped in triumph. 

 ***

Nick Stokes was in high spirits, even at 2am. Four hours to the end of a fairly quiet shift and a Tupperware container of Chinese take-out for “lunch” were all it took to make him a very happy man. 

He was just settling into a seat with his lunch when Greg Sanders literally waltzed into the break-room, whistling jauntily. Nick eyed the young man, fighting a grin. Greg wore his heart on his sleeve and from his sublimely goofy smile Nick was pretty sure their resident lab rat had scored a major coup on the dating scene. 

“What’s up, Greggo?”

“Oh, not much.” Greg pulled a can of Red Bull and an enormous sandwich from the fridge and bumped the door shut with his hip. He plunked his lunch down onto the table and bopped across the room for napkins. “Just that I scored a date with the hottest woman on the face of the planet.”

“Greg, Halle Berry doesn’t work in this building. You must have fallen asleep at the ‘scope again.”

Greg laughed. “Oh, no, my friend. She’s hotter than Halle. Trust me on this.”

“Ain’t nobody hotter than Halle Berry, son,” Warrick drawled from the doorway. “And that’s a fact.” 

The CSI-3 also walked over to the fridge and started rummaging inside for his lunch. “Why are we discussing Halle Berry now?”

Nick took a bite of fried rice and winked at Warrick. “Greg got a date and she’s apparently the hottest woman in the world.”

“Really?” Warrick settled at the table with a calzone and began working his way through it. “Well, Halle Berry falls into that category for me and I know she didn’t ask you out. So who’s your date, Greg?”

“Only the delectable, the delightful, the delicious, the delicate, the divine–“

”Come on, man, stop with the alliteration and get to the point,” Nick laughed. 

“–Sara Sidle,” finished Greg with a flourish, brandishing his fork.

Nick suddenly frowned. “Sara asked you out?”

Greg pretended to brush dust off of his lab coat. “Hey, my man, when you got it you got it. Don’t be jealous of a brother just because he came off better than you did.”

“Greg, I hate to break it to you,” Nick said, “but you must have been dreaming or something. Sara asked me out tonight almost as soon as we walked in. We were putting our stuff away in the locker room when she asked me. We’re going to Aces and Eights tomorrow night.”

Warrick, mouth full of calzone, waved his hands for attention. He swallowed thickly. “Hey, both of you guys must be a little delirious because Sara asked me out before she talked to either of you. We walked in together from the parking lot and she asked me to go to Aces and Eights tomorrow night.”

All three guys looked at each other simultaneously. “What the hell?” they all chorused. 

 ***

When Greg, Warrick, and Nick all arrived at Aces and Eights the next night, they were surprised to see Catherine, Grissom, and Jim Brass sitting at a table in front of the stage.

“So, I guess there’s no hope of a little after dinner action with Sara,” Greg muttered when he spied his supervisors. 

“Not unless Sara’s a lot kinkier than we all thought,” Warrick responded, deadpan. At the evil glint in Greg’s eyes, Warrick raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “Don’t even go there, man. I don’t want to know.” He raised a hand and hailed his fellow colleagues. “Gris, Cath, Jim.  What’s up?”

“Sara asked us to meet here tonight,” Catherine said. “I thought we were having a girls’ night out until I ran into Grissom and Jim.”

“Sara mentioned a band that played here that she thought I’d like,” Brass put in. “Told me she’d meet me and we’d compare notes.”

“And we all thought we had dates with Sara,” Nick confirmed, pointing to himself, Warrick, and Greg. “So, girls night, shared musical interest, dates. Sounds like subterfuge to me.”  He peered at Grissom. “What’d she tell you, Gris?”

At Grissom’s enigmatic smile, Nick shook his head. “Okay, then, let’s skip that. So, we’re all here and yet I don’t see Sara.”

“She’ll show up,” Grissom said. “In the mean time, I suggest we order. The menu looks quite good.”

They all settled down at the table and placed orders for drinks and food. Minutes later, Sara came bounding up to the table. She looked different and it took all of them a moment to figure out why. 

Whereas Sara lived and worked in cords, dress pants, and coveralls, today she was wearing a pair of tight, low-rise jeans. Designs in rhinestones snaked their way across the pockets and cuffs, making Sara glitter in the light. She was wearing a spaghetti strap tank top, tight and low cut, in silvery grey, and a pair of black boots with needle thin heels. Her hair was curled and rhinestone combs held it back from her face. Her cheekbones and collarbone shone from glitter and her lips were painted a hot, slick red.    

“Hey, you made it!” She took in all of her friends with one of her thousand watt smiles. “I’m glad you could come.”

“Yeah, but why are we all here?” Greg asked, tearing his eyes away from the sparkling Sara. “I mean, not that I mind a group outing every once in a while but this definitely isn’t what we talked about the other day.”He blushed when he realized how petulant he sounded but seeing Sara all decked out and ready to party did not improve his mood.

Sara blushed furiously. “Yeah, about the false pretenses. I’m sorry about that, you guys. I was just afraid that if I told you why I really wanted to come here, you’d shoot me down.”

“Why would we do that?” Catherine admonished gently. “If you wanted us to spend time together all you had to do was ask.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Sara said. She sat in the chair next to Nick and sipped from his glass of water. “Actually, this all started as Nick’s idea.”

“It did?” Nick looked perplexed.

“Nicky overheard me singing to myself in the lab one day. And he didn’t immediately run away screaming– in fact, he suggested I take it up as a hobby. I didn’t give it a lot of thought since I didn’t think I needed a hobby. But when the Donna Marks case came around I decided I didn’t like the idea of turning into a crazy lady with 100 cats and an addiction to catalogues. So I took Nick’s suggestion about taking up singing. I’ve been taking voice and guitar lessons for the last year.” Sara spread her hands. “That leads us here, where, I’m hoping, you guys will lend me some moral support since tonight is the first night I’m going to try singing in front of people.”

Warrick got it immediately. “Open mic night, baby. Right on, Sara-girl!” He gave her a high five. “I forgive the misinformation. I love this kind of thing.”

Catherine smiled at the younger woman. “This is great. I’m glad you decided to share with us.”

“You may want to save the thanks till after I sing,” Sara said, half-joking. 

“Well, however you turn out to be, good or bad– not that bad is much of a possibility–“ Nick said, “– I think it’s cool we’ve all got the chance to hang out together. Good idea, Sara.”

The lights on stage started to dim and an frenetic looking emcee in jeans and a white “Aces and Eights” polo shirt which prominently featured a splayed hand of cards jumped onto the stage. 

“What’s up, people?” yelled the emcee. “Welcome to open mic night at Aces and Eights, featuring some of the best up and coming talent in Sin City! I’m Mike Dees, your emcee, taking all your questions, comments, criticisms, concerns and, of course, your generous cash tips if you’re so inclined. Let’s get the ball rolling tonight with everybody’s mic-night favorite, coming all the way in from Henderson, give it up for Wallabies Drop Acid!”

As with most mic nights, it was an even split on talent. Some of the bands rocked their way through original compositions and fresh covers of older songs to resounding applause. Others limped along on watered down rock or covers so bad as to render the original song virtually unrecognizable. The dance floor filled or emptied according to the band or solo artist and the table where the CSIs all sat was filled with either applause or laughter accordingly. Even Greg seemed to get over his initial disappointment and began getting into the spirit of the evening, laughing it up when Brass offered uncannily accurate impressions of some of the more horrendous singers. Food arrived and they ate and drank, laughing and clapping along.

Half way into the set, the emcee bounced out onto stage again. “Let’s give it up one more time for Kumquat Zombies. All right, next up, making her debut on the Aces and Eights stage, let’s have a big hand for Sara Sidle.”

Taking a deep breath, Sara marched up on stage and took the mic from the emcee. The house band had her music and she leaned over to quickly confirm with the guitarist that they were all on the same page. Hoping she wouldn’t end up with a monumental case of stage fright at the last second, Sara nodded at the guitarist, who started up the opening riff, and plunged into her song.

 

_Is it so hard to satisfy your senses?_

_You found out to love me, you have to climb some fences._

_Scratching and crawling along the floor to touch you._

_And just when it feels right, you say you’ve found someone to hold you._

_But does she like I do?_

 

_Baby, tell me does she love you like the way I love you?_

_Does she stimulate you, attract and captivate you?_

_Tell me does she miss you, existing just to kiss you,_

_like the way I do?_

 

_Tell me does she want you, infatuate and haunt you?_

_Does she know just how to shock you, electrify and rock you?_

_Does she inject you, seduce you and affect you like the way I do?_ _  
_

Though she swore to herself at the beginning that she wouldn’t look at Grissom, that she wouldn’t make this any more personal than it already was, she found herself searching him out. He was seated at the table, leaning forward slightly, watching her with his too blue gaze, studying her movements as she sang the way he studied the insects he pinned to his boards. Did he know it was for him, this song? Did he realize that she was up here, singing this to him, hoping beyond hope that he would somehow understand? He might– Grissom wasn’t a stupid man, after all. But at the same time Sara found herself hoping, as she wound herself deeper into the song, that Grissom would be as oblivious to this show of emotion as he would be to all the other things that concerned the two of them. 

 

_Can I survive all the implications?_

_Even if I tried could you be less than an addiction?_

_Don’t you think I know there’s so many others_

_who would beg, steal, and lie, fight, kill, and die,_

_just to hold you, hold you, like I do?_

_Baby, tell me does she love you like the way I love you?_

_Does she stimulate you, attract and captivate you?_

_Tell me does she miss you, existing just to kiss you,_

_like the way I do?_

 

_Tell me does she want you, infatuate and haunt you_

_Does she know just how to shock you, electrify and rock you?_

_Does she inject you, seduce you and affect you_

_like the way I do?_

 

By the time she got to the middle of the song, she knew she had it. The dance floor in front of her was pulsing with bodies. She was into the rhythm of the song now and loving every minute of it. She pulled the mic off of the stand and began to move across the stage, confidence turning her walk into a strut. The guitar was wailing behind her, the guys in the band as far into the driving beat of the song as she was. 

Staring down the spotlight that was blinding her, Sara looked right at the table where her friends were standing, rocking to the beat of her song. Grissom was at the table, the only one sitting still _,_ staring up at her as if completely entranced. It was her last chance to make him see, to get the message loud and clear. Throwing caution and subtlety far into the wind, Sara put a hand on her hip, raised the microphone to her lips, and belted the last verse with everything inside of her, locking her eyes with Grissom’s and holding him with her gaze. 

 

_Nobody loves you like the way I do._

_Nobody wants you like the way I do._

_Nobody needs you like the way I do._

_Nobody aches just to hold you._

_Like the way I do, no, no, no ..._

 

_Tell me does she love you like the way I love you?_

_Does she stimulate you, attract and captivate you?_

_Tell me does she miss you, existing just to kiss you, like the way I do?_

_Tell me does she want you, infatuate and haunt you_

_Does she know just how to shock you, electrify and rock you?_

_Does she inject you, seduce you and affect you like the way I do?_

 

She held the last note until she went lightheaded and her throat was raw _._ By the time the guitar and drums had died out, the whole dance floor had filled up so there was barely room to move. She spotted Warrick and Catherine standing on chairs just outside the dance floor, holding each other by the waist to keep from falling, both laughing and cheering. Brass was on his feet, whistling his approval with his fingers in his mouth. Greg and Nicky had navigated their way to the front of the dance floor and were standing directly under her, holding lighters and swaying back and forth, grinning devilishly. 

The applause swelled over her, warm and gratifying. With a whoop of delight, she took a bow then handed the microphone to the emcee before vaulting off the stage into Nick and Greg’s arms. 

“So when you cut a demo I get at least a quarter of the royalties, right?” Nick asked, hugging her. 

“As much as you want!” Sara laughed giddily. “That was so much fun!”

“That was deeply sexy.” Greg attempted to slide an arm around her waist. “Is there more to this rock and roll side of you? I have to say that I REALLY like it.”

Either Sara didn’t hear his comment or she didn’t want to bother answering because she was already exchanging high-fives with Warrick and Catherine. 

“Hell of a voice, Little Bit,” Brass said, giving Sara an affectionate hug. “Is this gonna be a regular thing from now on? If it is I’m game for it.”

“If Warrick will get up and play with me one night I’ll do it,” Sara replied. 

Warrick looked surprised, then at the responses of his friends, readily agreed. As they were discussing possible song choices for the next mic night, Sara looked around for Grissom. Though her heart sank in her chest, she somehow wasn’t surprised to see that in the melee after her song, he’d gotten up and left. 

 ***

She left Aces and Eights an hour later. The adrenaline rush of her first successful performance had left her almost as quickly as it arrived. Though she stayed on for a celebratory round of drinks, courtesy of Jim Brass, her heart wasn’t into it at all. All she could think about was the fact that she had, inexplicably, ruined things with Grissom. She hadn’t planned it that way– in fact, she’d hoped that a little push would be all he needed to get him looking in her direction. What she hadn’t considered, had hoped that she wouldn’t have to think about, was the possibility that he wouldn’t appreciate such a public declaration of her feelings for him. Though she doubted that her friends would have guessed that the song was meant for Grissom, she was fairly sure that he would know exactly who she was singing it to. It had probably embarrassed him. That, she was sure, was why he had left. 

Cursing herself for her stupidity, Sara marched outside to her car. She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she didn’t see the figure leaning against her car until she was practically on top of him

“Sara?”

“Jesus Christ!” She dropped her purse, fumbling for a gun that wasn’t on her waist. She knelt to pick up her bag and scowled at Grissom. “You nearly gave me a heart attack, Grissom!”

“I thought you saw me,” he said mildly, bending down to help her pick up her belongings. “But you were so deep in thought I guess not.”

Sara straightened and adjusted her purse. She leaned against her car and looked over at the club. “You left.”

Grissom nodded. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“I was confused.”

Sara raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I needed time to organize my thoughts.”

“And did you?”

“I’m still working on it. But I didn’t want you to leave without saying that I admire what you did– taking on a new hobby, sticking to it, showing all of us what you’re made of. I know what it must have taken for you to get up there tonight and sing in front of all those people.”

Sara stared at him, incredulous. What it took for her to sing in front of _them_? Did he completely miss the point? What about what it took for her to sing in front of _him_? She shot Grissom a look that spoke to just how idiotic she thought he was. 

The look he gave her in return was inscrutable. With an irritated sigh, Sara rifled in her purse for her keys and pushed past Grissom to the driver’s side door. 

She stopped when his hand clasped hers. Hardly daring to believe it, she turned slowly around to look at him fully in the face. There was the usual half-smile playing at the corner of his lips but something more serious in his eyes. His fingers came up to brush the line of her jaw, tracing up to rest on her cheekbone. 

“Gris–“

He put one finger on her lips. “In answer to your question, Sara– no, she doesn’t. No one ever could.”

It took her a full five seconds before she understood which question Grissom was referring to– and then his mouth was on hers and neither the answer, nor the question, really mattered anymore. 

 

End. 


End file.
